My ex-girlfriend from 11th grade -- my first real girlfriend and my first or second blowjob (it was either her or this Korean chick who worked at Starbucks) -- messaged me on Google chat today to tell me this:
"Yesterday was my birthday and I got engaged."
I actually posted a happy birthday on her Facebook wall the day before, but used a period instead of an exclamation point so as not to convey any excitement or jubiliation. Just to acknowledge that, biologically, she's still alive: Happy Birthday. You have a pulse.
Marcie was always kind of a bitch. She had this I'm-smarter-than-you air that soured her otherwise pleasant demeanor -- one of those sexy AP girls who studied way too hard because getting into a good school meant life or death. Now she's working a cubicle job alongside C students who skipped class to smoke pot. What oh what were those achievements for?
I've noticed that intellectual condescension tends to be a common thread in bookish girls who aren't Barbie-pretty, even though they may be attractive in non-generic, non-assembly line ways. It's a defense mechanism: "If I can't be popular and hot then I'm going to be smart and make fun of everyone who is." I call it the reverse cheerleader.
Marcie was pretty though. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Nice hips. Big smile. A classic beauty. Our first date (and my first date altogether) was to see American Beauty at Fairfax Town Center. It was one of those hot-feeling dates where we both knew we really liked each other, and as much as we liked the movie we couldn't wait for it to be over so we could look at each other and gush some more. We ended up making out for an hour in the orange-lit parking lot while rain tapped and windows fogged. Lots of face-brushing and hair-running. Pulling back to look at each other and smile like we couldn't believe how lucky we were for finding each other.
"I'm glad you came into Blockbuster." (that's where I worked)
But we were too insecure and immature for a relationship. She kept thinking I was going to dump her and I kept thinking she was going to dump me. We lasted two months and then dumped each other. I cried.
We maintained weak contact after that. Every time we'd try to reconcile and at least become friends, I'd do something she wold perceive as boorish and then that would be that until the next half-assed reconciliation.
We became Facebook "friends", if only to check up on each other to see who's winning in life. I remember she filled in the how-do-you-know-this-person section with high school. I countered with used to date, which she refused to accept -- probably because she didn't want all of her proper friends to see she dated a profane meathead with a penchant for assholishness. I felt like an embarrassment from her past. But then I considered the source.
Anyway, today was the first time we talked in over two years.
"I posted a happy birthday on your Facebook."
"So basically you're messaging me to tell me you're engaged."
"Yeah. It's fun."
Translation: I'm a big girl. Nanny nanny boo boo.
I'm not bothered by her engagement though. I'm bothered by her behavior. Her announcing it apropos of nothing. It feels like an attack: "I'm engaged. Beat THAT!" Like she's throwing it in my face trying to make me feel like shit. And I don't. I actually feel kind of bad for her.
So many paths in this life and she chose the one with the least booby traps.